A Slice of Life
by gabbwee
Summary: A scarf that smells of crushed coriander seeds and lotus blooms. A promise to see each other again. Letters and love. Family and discovering. Where growing up is something done in seconds can you find a way to break that mold that has defined you and discover one that fits you better? BenjaminXRenesmee
1. water stories

_Disclaimer: The Characters are owned by Stephanie Meyer, I just get the privilege to play with them. _

* * *

_1. Water stories_

* * *

_But I've seen your long hair come down_

_It turned my head inside out_

_And I want you, I want you_

_Still do_

_Quesadilla- Walk the moon_

Bronze curls bounced frantically as the pale child clung to the toffee colored vampire, brown eyes huge and frightened. Unconsciously filling the Egyptian with her fears. Her shock. Her gratitude. Seeing the images she passed, he walked a little faster. Getting her to safety his only thought.

They knew there would be a mistake. One day. Everyone hoped it wouldn't happen. _But._ Too many vampires in one place. Too many opportunities for a fight to start up. If was only a matter of time before Renesmee got in the way. Just thank the heavens someone with a straight head grabbed her before they broke her tiny frame.

"Don't worry, Little Sphinx," Benjamin comforted, patting the back of the halflings head gently, "just a _lover's_ quarrel. It'll be over soon." Outside he extruded strength and wisdom, inside he reverently hoped that the two covens fighting about their mates would soon be over. The Cullen house and land had become a battlefield. Training gone wrong. _Not the proper place for an observant, quiet little child_.

Dense earth turned to mud as he neared a crystal river, the water singing a gentle tune as it bubbled by. Sitting down silently on a rock outcropping, he tried to delicately pull the tiny half-vampire off him only to get frantic pictures of fear racing through his mind's eye. _She was not going to let go_. Benjamin sighed softly at the girl's antics, smiling as he decided holding the girl was better than her sitting on the cold rock. Even though he himself was a cold rock. But at least he had clothes. _And cuddled._

Holding her lightly, he listened to the cacophony of hisses and angry growls moving through the forest. _Vampires. _But not just vampires, but_ mated vampires._ Benjamin knew not why mated vampires took bait so easily. A basic "_your mate looks like a pig_" sufficed enough to put any vampire into an ireful turmoil. A vague pang of sadness bolted through him. Unmated. Not coupled. _Single_. But that sadness was easily repressed with relief. Who wanted to duke it out just because of low blows?

"Tell a story, Benjamin," a tiny fingers suddenly tugging on his dark grey scarf, forcing his attention away from the sounds of fighting, "please." They tangled in the delicate silk fabric; quickly fingering the hieroglyphs etched fainting into the cloth. Her distracted eyes abruptly mesmerized by the perplexing maze of shapes lined in cream glimmering faintly in the dappled light.

Shaking her head, telling herself to not be distracted, she uttered another small "_Please, Benjamin_." Doe eyes finally rested on him, pleading. As if she didn't know she was going to get a story whether she said please or not.

No one could deny the small child her whims. No matter how tough. Benjamin smiled at the memory of Renesmee asking for a story from the _Romanian_ coven. The dreaded Romanians. Barbarians._ Fear inducer_s. Amun could barely stay in the same room as them. And yet, unabashed, a tiny fragile half-human girl goes up to them and ask for a story. Amused, the Romanians regaled the chocolate-eyed girl with a gruesome story of their downfall. She never asked for another story from them. Curiosity quenched._ Forever_

Tucking the girl neatly under his chin, he moved his hands over the stream water. Liquid, clear and prismatic, parted from the rolling water; following the thin hands of the Egyptian. Like a puppeteer he moved it around experimentally, amusing the small child absently by swishing it around her face before finally starting his story.

"Once long before you or I lived, there was merchant named Charaxos; who sold the finest merchandise in the Egyptian city of Naucratis," as he spoke the water swirled and danced, changing into ships and people. Painting pictures out of water. "And one day, as he stood in the market, he saw a large crowd gathered around the slave auction." A city filled with miniscule water people shifted and moved; a figure slightly more detailed than the rest, flowed between the blobs of people, "Moving through the crowd, he found that everyone was looking at a beautiful girl who had just been set up on the stone rostrum to be sold as a slave. She was unlike any Egyptian anyone had ever seen, white skin and cheeks like blushing roses. Charaxos caught his breath - for he had never seen anyone so lovely."

Renesmee giggled as the rostrum was formed with a delicate water replica of herself standing upon it, wearing a simple dress. "That's me!" Benjamin smiled warmly at the girl's happiness, his cold dead heart practically thawing at her adorableness.

"Consequently, when the bidding began, Charaxos determined to buy her and, being one of the wealthiest merchants in all Naucratis, he did so without much difficulty." He continued, "Upon buying the beauty, he found her name to be Rhodopis; a child stolen by pirates and sold into slavery for money. And the old besotted merchant took pity on her."

"Charaxos gave the girl everything. A house. A garden. Slaves to take care of her. Spoiling her like she was his own daughter. And there she thrived, a princess of her own little house," water Renesmee grew, turning into a girl who faintly resembled Renesmee only older, "But one day, while Rhodopis was bathing in the marble-pool in her garden, an eagle came swooping down upon her and stole one of her favorite rose-red slippers that sat near the pool," an eagle carrying a slipper swooped close to Renesmee's cheek, her fingers coming up to slap at it only for her digits to slide through the water leaving them damp.

"Rhodopis was—," Benjamin's story was halted as tanned hands snatched up the enthralled girl. Water splashing all over the bottom half of his jeans and shoes, as is concentration moved to the body towering over him. Hard obsidian eyes glared down at the vampire. Huge body shaking in anger. _Jacob._

"What do you think you're doing, bloodsucker?" the tall man snarled, curling a rather indignant child under his arm.

"I was telling her a story," Benjamin stated coldly, wrinkling his nose at the shifters smell. Couldn't they smell better? Seriously. He had hoped that he could become accustomed to the smell. But no. that was not happening. _Gross._

"Out in the—," it was the shifters turn to be cutoff; the little Halfling touched the shifters arm, an angry frown tugging on her lips. If anything it became livider when the Halfling pulled away, convulsions vibrating through him. "They're fighting?! I leave for twenty minutes and they start fighting!"

Jacob ignored the Egyptian and started toward the house, muttering crude words as he went. Renesmee wiggled slightly out of the shape shifters constricting grasp, placing a fleeting pale hand on Benjamin's olive cheek. The touch faint and swift, but he saw and felt it none-the-less.

_Finish the story later._

And who was to deny the little Halfling. Already Benjamin missed the warmth the girl carried, her sweet personality. Amun was right, he had become overly attached.


	2. Ungood-byes

_Ungood-byes_

* * *

_Take me with you  
I start to miss you_

_Cross my heart-Mariana's Trench_

Cloth fell into the old suitcase haphazardly, shirts twisting with jeans. Scarves with socks. Benjamin sighed in frustration as he shoved the last of his scarves and shirts into the bag, why did they have to leave now? Another week would scarcely matter; most vampires didn't live in Egypt. Or even pass through it. Something about no clouds or rain sat heavily on cold shoulders. Who would want to do that? Oh, wait, his family. _Of course._

The zipper closed with a sharp _zzzpt_, grabbing it off the guest bed that they had been relocated into after many of the other vampires had left; he turned off the lights and closed the door behind him. A frown settling on his usually energetic features, he looked as if he was going to battle again instead of leaving. A dark exotic knight.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he was met with a pair of huge brown eyes staring angrily as he descended. The soft white meat of an apple slice half-way to her slight mouth. Standing in nothing but an elusive white night shift, her child-like pout growing larger as the Egyptian came closer, Renesmee crossed her appendages and glared harder. Benjamin barely stifled a smile at the child, patting her on her head as he passed.

"Sorry, Little Sphinx," his smile turned tender, all the irritability melting away, "I've got to leave now."

The little girl followed him through the house, nibbling unobtrusively one her apple slice. Saying nothing. Just following. Following with an anguished face settled on her pale face.

Cars lined the garage, sports cars—shiny and sleek—they sat like soldiers ready to go to battle. Moving quickly between them, Benjamin stopped at the last one. A sleek midnight Bugatti Veyron. _Dhil_. The shadow.

Amun and Kebi waited impatiently leaned up against the car in silence. Homesickness had taken over their systems, flooding their dry veins with memories of their temple home. Missing the sun. The sandstone. The heat. _Even the dust_.

Amun glared tiredly at the little girl following Benjamin, "You have a tag-along," he said, opening the passenger seat to motion his wife to get in. They needed to leave. Now. Preferably.

"I know, Little Sphinx is angry," Benjamin smiled cheekily, opening the trunk to place his luggage along with the rest. Securing the trunk, he finally looked down at his little adherent.

"You didn't finish the story," bronze curls blowing across her face, the girl frowned up at the man. Disappointment evident on her face.

Tapping his chin sympathetically, Benjamin allowed a thoughtful frown to pull on his lips, "I suppose I didn't, _but_," he undid the gauzy sapphire scarf he'd been wearing, and wrapped it loosely around the girl, "we have all the time in the world, Little Sphinx, take my scarf and next time I see you we can trade. Scarf for story. Deal?" he smiled then. Wide and cheery. The dimples deep and friendly on his olive complected face.

"Deal." A sharp nod rustling her auburn curls. Face stoic.

Getting in the backseat of the sports car, Benjamin offered a slight departing wave. This wasn't good-bye. This was a beginning.

As the car disappeared around the bend of the tree covered lot, Renesmee fingered the scarf. Bringing it closer to her face to nuzzle the silk scarf. _Coriander seeds. lotus flowers. Spicy and sweet. _exotic. She hadn't said good-bye. They'd see each other again. _He promised._ But inside Renesmee's stomach tied in knots, her heart suddenly containing an empty spot. Salt water dripped down her face, sadness wreaking havoc on her sensitive half-human body. She'd never felt these emotions before. _So strange._

"Hey, kiddo, whatcha doing outside?" hot hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her high off the ground. She felt no relief and happiness in his grip. Only vague protection. Even stranger.

Arms rubbing away the tears, she offered a small smile to her best friend, "Nothing." He disapproved of the Egyptian. Or any other vampire. Zafrina scared him the most. Renesmee knew better than to talk happily about them. It made him upset. Made him shiver.

"No showing today?" Jacob asked, placing her on his hip as we walked them back inside.

"Nope," Renesmee shrugged, after learning that not everyone appreciated her gift she decided it was in everyone's best interest to keep it solidly under wraps, "it is a hindrance on some occasions. I cannot touch everybody contingently to get my feelings out. That would be noted as being _peculiar_."

"Whatever you say kiddo," Jacob gave her a weird look, shaking his head at the words that came out of her mouth. Only several months old and already she knew more words than he did. Now, he felt like a failure. A _dunce._

They walked back into the spacious living room. The last of the vampires leaving as he spoke. Empty and echoing, the near mansion felt hollow. Hushed . The Amazonians had already made their promises to have their little Halfling visit and left several days prior, along with the Irish and Romanians none of them having said much other than to stay in contact. Only the Denali's had failed to leave. But they were practically extended family; they would probably stay several weeks more for Christmas.

"That is a beautiful scarf you've got there, Sweetheart," Esme complimented, as Jacob put Renesmee down. Smiling sweetly down at the girl, "who gave you that?"

Several curious faces turned to the cute adolescent, waiting for an answer. Rubbing the soft fabric against her face, cheeks turned a soft pink, "_someone special_." Mysterious. Best answer

Edward chuckled from her spot behind the piano, a smug smile settling on his thin lips. Bella looked over at him, "what?"

"Nothing," He aimed another smug look at Jacob before turning to his wife, "Nessie is just going to be a handful when she gets older that's all."

"Physically, I already much more than a handful," Renesmee quipped, turning to stare at her father questionably, "to a human it is at present impossible to hold me with one hand."

Everybody merely laughed, finding the girl's logic adorable. Renesmee's cheeks burned brighter, bringing forth more laughter. Her embarrassment meant everybody's amusement. Had they been speaking fictionally? Instead of opening her mouth to speak up, she shot into her grandpa's lap to hide shyly. Carlisle accepted her with open arms, hugging her gently before settling her in his lap.

Leaning down, he whispered softly into her ear. A strong clear trumpet floating underneath musical bells, "Better keep that scarf close to you, Little One, precious things from precious people deserve to be treasured."

"_Yes, Papa." _

_Coriander seeds and lotus flower. _The scent cloying and soft next to her nose as she snuggled into it, already wishing to see the Egyptian again. Her Egyptian. Eyes drawing heavy, her mind started to wander as everybody went back to what they were doing. Playing videogames, listening to music, shopping.

_Coriander and lotus. _

There was no denying it. She loved the smell.


	3. rose-red slippers

_Rose-red slippers_

* * *

_'Cause I just want you here tonight  
Holding on to me so tight  
What more can I do?  
Baby, all I want for Christmas is you  
You, baby_

_All I want for Christmas- Mariah Carey_

Spice clung to the air, thick and tantalizing. Cookies soft and mouthwatering sat basking on the counters, waiting, _asking_, to be eaten. Rain, fat and wet, like an onslaught of warm pellets shot across slick windows, the torrent outside too angry and cruel to allow civilization to take part in the warm thunderstorm stirring heavy winds and lancing lightning across the sky.

A small bronze-haired child stared out the window intently. Avidly watching the storm with excitement. No one paid much attention to the gawky teenager, instead walking around her. For it was a normal occurrence to see the breakable girl sprawled out across the living room lazily. _It's my watching position_, she often said, even though it was a lie. The whole house was virtually windows, she could watch from the couch. Could, but_ won't_. Renesmee Cullen was just too nice, or too much of a coward, to tell her grandma that the cushions of their new couches were harder than rocks. Gorgeous, but uncomfortable.

"Merry Christmas, _everybody_!" Alice screamed from the top of the grand staircase, shooting down with a stack of presents nearly taller than her.

Toppling them under the tree with the rest, thin arms akimbo, she pouted at the Cullens inhabiting the living room and areas around it. Everybody unresponsive to the pixie's loud call. Emmett, Jasper, and Jake playing video games, Carlisle, sitting, reading a medical dictionary while Esme sat cuddled to his side sketching in an old sketchpad. Edward sat at the table in the dining room conjoined with the living room, working on some giant spreadsheets, Bella bustling around the kitchen trying to unsuccessfully make some form of food. Being a vampire had taken a toll on her cooking, dark days for the food eaters on the days that Bella decided to cook. Rosalie sat at the computer shopping, and the rest of the shifters lazed around in much the same state Renesmee was. No one could stand the couch, but no one had the _cahones_ to try and tell that to Esme.

"C'mon guys, where is your Christmas spirit?" she cried, moving swiftly to block the boy's television, "Is anybody listening!? Christmas?_ Now_!"

"Merry Christmas," Renesmee answered back softly, turning slightly to greet her eccentric aunt. Was Christmas really such a big deal? Rotating back around, Ren went back to watching the deluge with renewed interest. How many times did that lightning strike branch off? _Five times?_

An inundation of voice flooded from across the house in a rapid downpour after Renesmee's initial words, hurried _merry christmas'_s like sudden bolts of lightning. Here than gone.

"Now get away from the screen, Sis," Emmett growled, "I can't die!" two other voices raised their voices in agreement at Emmett's declaration. Their button mashing taken to a whole new level as they stretched and moved to see around the miniature vampire.

Scowling, Alice stalked off, huffing loudly_. Dramatically. _Impulsively, Alice grabbed the remote from off the glass coffee table and pressed the little red button. _The dreaded red button of power. The little red button. _Off went the screen, sentencing all three characters to death.

"Now listen up," everyone froze, turning once again to look at the tiny pixie. Shock as electrifying as the storm throwing a tantrum outside.

"Well, don't you have balls," Emmett laughed, mock glaring at his sister, "thanks to you we are all going to _die."'_

Everybody ignored him, attention stuck on the little five foot woman banishing the remote at anyone who dared to look away. She would throw it. _She would._

"_It's Christmas, and we are—,"_

Blue light flashed across the sky, drawing Renesmee's eyes away from her aunt. Transfixed once again. Bad decision. Horrible decision. Devastating decision. Such rapt attention spent staring at the dangerous sky; she didn't have time to react to the controller flying through the air. She didn't even see it coming.

_Whack!_ A black universal remote dropped to the ground in two pieces after impact.

"_Ow_!" Renesmee clutched the back of her head, brown eyes narrowed in animosity at the woman, she grounded out between clenched teeth, "_What the fuck_!?"

"Ren, language!" Esme and Edward cried, staring in shocked awe at the girl.

"Where'd you learn that?" Bella asked, head popping in over the half-wall window separating the kitchen from the living room. No one was allowed to curse around Nessie. Even Emmett had to watch his mouth. It was like rehab for the giant bear, but it was for the better of his niece. So, he could deal.

Ren snapped her mouth closed, staring moon eyed at her mother like she couldn't understand what she was saying. When in doubt, play dumb. Safest ploy.

"_Renesmee Carlie Cullen_," oh, no. not the full name. Oh, how she hated her full name. Her mother's gold eyes narrowed, a sharp line becoming her lips. _Soo screwed._

"It's only bad when used in a sexually oriented context, _Mother_," Ren treaded carefully, but daringly, training her thoughts onto something artificial, cats. The youngest Cullen always wanted a cat. _Cat were good. Cats were safe. _Her dad didn't need to see into her mind. Didn't need to see the person who'd taught her that phrase among many more.

"I don't care what context _it'_s used in, you are not allowed to say _it_," Bella darted out into the living room, arms crossed over a stiff apron strapped on over an elegant blouse and jeans. It just got serious. Real serious.

Crap. Well, nothing to lose now.

"Mother," tone incredulous, "I'm not a baby, you can't shield me from _everything_." Cats. Cats are furry. Cats like to drink milk. Eyes narrowed in frustration and concentration, Renesmee practically shouted the phrase in her head. Putting it on repeat.

Gold eyes, with the odd brown eye thrown in, watched the argument like it was the coolest show on television. Even Alice couldn't butt into the verbal reprimanding happening before their eyes. Rule one of living under the same roof of an actual parent and child unit. No ones. Absolutely no one stepped in when Renesmee was getting reprimanded. Not unless you wanted to lose and arm. Or head.

"Excuse me?" Edward was far more scary than Bella. Older. Wiser. And capable of reading minds. Much, much scarier. His brow wrinkled in confusion for a second before realization at her mental blockade struck, "Who taught you?"

Renesmee was digging herself a hole. On Christmas of all days. That was a teenager for you.

Ren stood up, the storm outside nothing compared to the hurricane boiling in the house, glared angrily at her parents. A steel resolve suddenly flooding her veins. Now, now she was just going to fight because she could. Dredge up old wrongs. Bring out whatever she could remember about anything. It was war.

" .not. ." Disregarding the second question, she zeroed in on her father; eyes like chips of brown shrapnel. Chancy.

"_You're four_," everybody went back to her literal age when they argued. Well, you are four therefore you are too young. Well. Screw age. Her brain was years ahead while her body had just hit puberty.

"Do I _look _like a _four year old,"_ Ren found herself snarling, gesturing to her lanky twelve/thirteen year old body, "I can walk, read, cook, _speak_ and use the bathroom by myself. I'm sure I'm _not_ a four year old_."_

"You are certainly acting like a four year old," Ren lost control of her cat block, her thoughts wavering. She tried to pull it back up, useless. Her anger finally shattering it.

Everybody felt it. The sudden change. Edward had won the war.

"I hate you," she whispered, anger practically oozing from her pores, not as explosive as it would have been if Jasper hadn't been there trying to slowly suck it dry. "I hate you!" louder. An explosion of teenage anger and hormones. Jasper had failed.

Renesmee may have lost the war, but she'd just taken victory for the battle.

In those few seconds where no one said anything, they'd reached the eye of the hurricane. Now came the rest. The weaker half. Bystanders, awkwardly silent, relaxed minutely. It was coming to an end. A blissful end.

"Renesmee Carlie Cullen, go to your room," Bella spoke up, Edward blinking in some semblance of shock.

In the tiny silence, Ren had already started across the room. Not looking back, she spit vapidly over her shoulder, "Where do you think I'm going? A freaking museum?"

"Renesmee," Edward hissed, a warning, she didn't have any more chances. Both chances of a gentle reprimanding gone "stay in your room, then."

"_I will_," the bronze hair spitfire snarled, already half-way up the stairs. Seconds later a door slammed, the fragile wood shaking on its frame.

Edward flopped onto the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose. Bella huffed quietly and moved back into the kitchen to try to salvage the meal she'd already burned. A thick silence clouded the room, everyone unsure what to do.

Alice, finally, clapped her hands together, "It's Christmas, nothing can ruin presents!" she cheered.

"Present time!" everyone cheered, the festive spirit finally leaking into everyone's bones. With a little help from Jasper, of course.

Carlisle patted his first son's shoulder gently, as everyone swarmed to gather their presents, words nearly inaudible, "Don't worry, she's just angry and needs space."

Edward sighed, and shook his head at Carlisle, "I know."

Sharply as if he'd just remembered something, Edward crooked his head toward an atypically quiet Jacob; lips pressed in a ugly snarl, "Teach my daughter any more crude words and I swear to God I will slaughter you, _dog_." Never again would his daughter be helping him build cars, the dog had no filter. At least Emmett could keep his mouth shut most days.

Let it be said, Jacob actually felt threatened. He valued his life far too much to test an angry father. Instead he focused on sorting out everyone's presents, keeping his silence well.

Upstairs, an upset Renesmee leaned against her door; sliding down slowly as the world seemed to crash around her. Salt water pooled in brown eyes, spilling over onto her navy shorts and loose cream baby-doll shirt. Christmas. Christmas of all days. _She wasn't four._

Using her reedy arms to brush away the tears, her eyes caught sight of the blue scarf laying across her lavender pillow. Scrambling forward with a sudden need, _want_, she crawled up into the bed and pulled the scarf close. The faint scent still there.

Calming.

Gentle.

Exotic.

Crushed coriander seed and Lotus.

Imagining the many possible endings to the story, Renesmee found sleep wafting around her like a spell cast from a wicked witch. Dreams of possibilities falling into her head. Where did the red slippers go? Were they ever found? ._possabilities_…

Jolted awake by a cold hand touching her shoulder, Renesmee found herself staring into the face of her father. The anger gone from his face. Lines disappeared into soft smiles. Happiness. Her actions had not officially been forgotten, but the anger had vanished. That was close enough for now.

Rolling over, she nuzzled into her pillow and scarf, "Go away, I'm _sleeping_."

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," Edward laughed, reaching over to tickle his daughter's sides, "don't you want to open presents?"

"Not if it means moving," she giggled, curling tighter into the blue silk, "I'm grounded though."

"That's why I'm allowing you to open them in your room, now sit up," Edward chuckled as he leaned down to pick up one of the smaller—_shoddier wrapped_—Christmas presents, giving it an experimental shake; he baited Ren, "hmm, I think this one is from Zafrina."

"Really, _Zafrina_?" Ren bolting up she reached out and grabbed the box, eyes bright with curiosity. She'd only talked to the sisters through written messages sent to obscure mailboxes. The recent one had just come yesterday, a reply ready to be sent after Christmas. She hadn't realized they'd sent a gift as well.

Edward moved to sit cross-legged, a camera in hand; enjoying his daughter's rapid thoughts of what it could be. Pressing record as he had been diligently told, he recorded each and every reaction.

Wrapping went flying as she tore through her gifts, more enthused about presents than Bella ever was. Even as a vampire, she practically _threw up_ at just looking at wrapped presents. _ridicules._

She'd moved from her bed after the second present, to busy doing her little happy dances at every gift. Legitimate, happiness and surprise clouding her face with each unveiling. There was nothing Renesmee didn't like. And if she didn't like it, she acted like it. As was the way of presents. It's the thought that counts.

A hand-crafted Amazonian vine bracelet and pressed exotic flowers from the Amazonians, new vibrantly colored picks for her beloved guitar from Bella, C.D.s for some obscure rock band Ren couldn't stop listening to from Edward, perfume that smelled like Nectarines—the note inside saying it was half of her scent already—from Rosalie, a set of expensive headphones from Emmett, a painting from Esme, several first edition books from Carlisle, a Quileute friendship bracelet from Jacob. The rest were small and thoughtful baubles, but still precious.

She'd thought she'd gotten all of them, smiling cheekily at her father, sitting cross-legged across the floor her many gifts spread out around her in a battle-field full of Christmas wrapping remains. The last box was nearly forgotten. Half-shoved under the bed. Nearly eaten by shadows.

"Sweetheart," Edward snapped his fingers to get her attention, nudging the box back into the light, "You forgot one."

"Whose it from?" Renesmee fingers the medium sized box, fingering the silver paper gently.

"I'm not sure," Edward shrugged with an ominous grin, the camera forgotten on the bed, "Just open it." _He knew. _

Bronze curls tangled across her shoulders as she leaned forward to further inspect the wrapping. No name, from. Her curiosity was officially peaked. Without further bidding she shredded the paper, and opened the white box. Nestled inside sat a pair of rose-red shoes. Emerald jewels rimmed the side between a gold ribbon treaded elegantly around the opening of the shoe, ending with a bow emblazoned with a circular ruby. Her own rose-red slippers.

_Crushed coriander and lotus _like an incense drifted up from the box. Benjamin.

Pulling each shoe out like they were ticking time-bombs, she set each one on the floor next to the box. As she went to push the box away, she noticed the nearly invisible envelope stuck to the bottom. Greediness did not stop her from being careful with the note, something inside stopped her from being brash. This needed care. And she obeyed the voice inside. Like doing surgery, Ren pried open the note.

One papyrus paper. Ten ink words.

_A pair of rose-red slippers fit for an Egyptian princess. _

This smile wasn't full of excitement and shortly followed by the incautious flailing of limbs. No. this one was sweeter. A pale milk-white face glowed, lips pressed in a smile so gentle and caring, reviving, it could raise dead soldiers. Brown eyes, deep and trusting, bloomed with an emotion so bright and radiant it seemed she'd turned momentarily turned into an inhuman angel. Settled onto the earth to bring momentary tears to the eyes. Making believers out of sinners.

_Best present ever._

The note still clutched in her hands, lips spread in a smile so large it nearly touched each cheek, she looked at her dad. "It's from Benjamin."

Smiling back, Edward was momentarily shunned into silence by her thoughts. He knew of the strange bond forged between the Egyptian and her daughter. But, this. This he hadn't been prepared for. Not just a simple bond. A crush. Love. They'd only seen each other once. How? But somehow. Somehow, instead of confusion or anger at how fast her daughter seemed to be maturing, he only felt relief.

_He was better than the cursing mutt. _A step up. And that was good enough.

Consciously, she was unaware of her feelings, and Edward didn't want to change that. Watching his daughter lovingly touch the shoes; fingering the satin fabric, tracing each gem, picking them up in a lovers embrace to move them gently over to her desk. She didn't need to know yet. He didn't want her to grow up yet. He still wanted his little girl.

Warm arms curled around his waist unexpectedly, a forgiving face nuzzling into her button-down collared shirt. Edward had been too caught up in his own world to notice the surprise attack.

"I'm sorry for arguing, Dad, I love you," bronze hair hiding her face from sight, eyes closed in happiness, her voice a soft soprano fragile in the windowed room. The apology and come from nowhere. _Surprise_.

But the apology was enough to make her father happy, his surprise Christmas present from Renesmee, an apology after angry words. That would do. "Apology excepted," he paused to mustering his best parental voice one last time, "but you have to tell your mother about learning _those unsophisticated words _from Jacob though."

Renesmee practically shriveled into a tiny raisin, she was a goner. Jacob was a goner. Death seemed alright to Renesmee though, as long as she could take the rose-red slippers with her to the grave.


	4. letters

_Letters _

_Our lives are made_

_In these small hours_

_These little wonders,_

_These twists & turns of fate_

_Time falls away,_

_But these small hours,_

_These small hours still remain_

_Little wonders- Rob Thomas_

The letters started arriving several months after the shoes. Her body looking barely fifteen now. The papyrus now fancy thick card-stock. Ebony words. Millions of them. Crushed together into compact phrases. Beautiful. With each one she began to devour each sentence greedily, eyes eating each letter, every sentence, each paragraph, before doing it again just to picture him pronouncing each word. Her happiest days landed on the days she received his letters. Ren could barely keep up with answering them. Benjamin's letters often coming everyday on some weeks and once a week on others. _Erratic._

Finally a schedule formed. Thursdays. Every week.

And then it became an addiction. A downright obsession. Pens running low on ink constantly, each letter getting heavier and needed twice as many stamps as the last one, due to the photos she crammed in there. Photos of their new home in Hilo, Hawaii. A place where rain came so often that it was a blessing to just be that the sun had lived to see another day, hadn't exploded randomly. Photos of her family. Of her. Little things like the beach, the sky, shells, people she found intriguing looking, even dogs doing there business in the park. Twice Renesmee sent pictures of the neighbor three houses down that kept fornicating with ancient woman in his car and consistently locked himself outside with no clothing on_ every time_. Embarrassing but hilarious.

He often said that his favorite was still the one of Ren dancing around in a pair of shorts and large shirt, ear-buds in, curls pulled up into a high knot. Broom in hand, Renesmee had been standing in the kitchen supposedly sweeping. That was a lie. She was rocking out like a boss. The broom her irregular guitar, a substitute to the one that currently sat across her messy bed. The embarrassment of that picture accidently getting sent to him still burned her cheeks. Now she double checked each picture, _four times._

The next week she received an envelope full of pictures back. Glorious shots of a temple-like palace he called home. Desert like a golden snow coated parts of the land, desolate and heartless, but his home. No, his home was surrounded my life. Lotus flowers and grass. The Nile river his next-door neighbor. In his backyard shifting from a long, doorless, hallway into golden steps that led to the river, a little channel spitting off into their own little pool. A boat was tethered there, sometimes—he wrote once—at night he took the boat out without permission and watched the stars while floating. Pictures of the stars came the following week after his story.

Pictures of him and his tiny family started doting the spaces between the spaces left between each glorious shot of_ his_ world. Amun glaring at the camera, Kebi smiling fondly as she practiced her hieroglyphs. A dying artwork, Benjamin later admitted, providing many close-ups to Kebi's many pretty symbols. Even one of a tiny, stray, black cat that Benjamin had been feeding secretly in his bedroom, how he didn't break down and eat it no one knows.

Her favorite, one she hid in her underwear drawer away from Jacob, who often snooped through her room, was of Benjamin curled in a small alcove in the shade, the Nile River reflecting the sky just down the hallways. His strong jaw line stuck out prominently as he rested it on his olive knuckles, impossibly long fingers curled inward. Straight nose, aristocratic, led to an expressive brow. Black eyebrows scrunched together as he read. Curly raven hair, so black it shone with highlights of blue, curled frantically across his face, taking his ears prisoner in their springy grip. Heavy shadows took away his eyes, only faint lines where they should have been. Mysterious. _And his legs_. One impossibly long black-jean clad leg stretched out, the other stuck between deciding whether it wanted to be stretched out or brought closer to his face. The book itself sat nestled on his lap, Benjamin so enraptured by the book it looked as if he didn't even knows the picture is being taken.

Only once did she find the guts to ask about the ending of the story. Hiding it between words of her day and talk of what had happened this week, Renesmee hoped he answered the question without much thought. It was worth the try.

Only one answer. Not even two complete sentences.

Nice try, I do believe I need to hear it in person. Need scarf.

The subject was never breeched again. Instead the subject often jumped from one subject to another. Each letter discussing in great lengths subjects of depth. Whether it be about Napoleon Bonaparte's battle strategies, in depth religious battles about faith and death, or lighthearted teasing. I looked forward to the days his writing regaled me with a story of his past. Sometimes he'd just drop information like a bomb. Other times waiting to be asked.

And somewhere. Somewhere '_Dear Ms. Cullen_ 'had changed to '_Little Sphinx'_. And then onto Sphinx when he decided I probably looked too old to be _little_ anymore. And one day. Today. It was addressed _to My love._ Renesmee spilled the bottle of ink she used to refill her calligraphy pen onto her clothes in shock. All over her legs and shorts. Like she'd fought in a battle full of black blood, it covered her turquoise tank-top and streaked across her face. And all over her photos. And all over her white desk. She needed some serious cleaning agent to get out the mess she'd created.

Door opening slowly, she peeked out into the dark hallway. Moonbeams cast luminescent light across the walls, a tranquil silence only broken ; everyone it seemed had retired to their respective rooms to do…stuff. Stuff her virgin eyes and ears never wanted to hear or see. But in retrospect, she had a question free trip to the kitchen. No one to ask suspicious questions

Door creaking open, Ren tiptoed mutely out of her room and into the kitchen. Cabinets opened under her fingertips, eyes constantly roaming for the ingredient she needed to clean the ink of her desk. _Baking soda._ Her clothes and pictures were destroyed. But the desk was salvageable.

Baking soda several feet above her, the girl was far too short to reach. Fingers splayed she tried fruitlessly to at least displace the container to take a grab. Desperate measures call for desperate actions. Popping white knuckles with an uneasy expression, Ren started to climb up the pantry cabinets.

It was no secret the youngest Cullen was among the shortest in their large family. Only one person stood behind in height, _Alice_. Edward and Bella, who both were of average height, were still confused at the petite-ness showing itself in the fifteen year-old. Petite, subtle curves, cute. Hot wasn't a word associated with her. Too quirky. Strange. Unique, to have a word associated with that of her Mother and Aunt Rose. And thus her constant troubles with things placed high above her head.

Goal in sight, fingers outstretch she reached. And reached. Nearly there.

"Hey, Kiddo,_ what_ are you doing?"

A scream, a fall, a crash.

There was no sound that went unheard. She would get no privacy tonight. Lights went on everywhere. Sounds of question ringing against rain-splattered panes of glass. Why? Why did her family have to be super-hearing vampires?

"I'm fine," Ren cried angrily, fists hitting the ground in irritation, "Jacob scared me." Several lights went back off after that. Thank goodness no one went down to inspect.

Warm tanned hands offered to help the girl up; only she glared at them before getting up herself. Arms crossed, she turned on the large, hulking Indian.

"No, What are _you _doing?" She practically seethed, animosity growing like fire in her eyes. No one scared her and got away with it. Emmett had long ago learned that lesson, not that it stopped him. But still.

Palms raised in surrender, dark eyes looked at the girl sheepishly, "I was hungry," he paused for a minute, looking over at the ink-stained girl, "Is that a new fashion. Ink art?"

Ren studied the male quietly. Skin the color of hot chocolate, moussed brown hair long and tangled pushed back behind one ear framing a strong face. Prominent cheekbones curved underneath nearly black eyes that stared out from under uncontrolled eyebrows. Tall and bulky. There was no doubt the muscled shifter was not ugly. Ruggishly handsome. Woodsy. Shaking her head, she wondered faintly why they were friends. Her only romance being the ones through her millions of letters. Romantic but lame. . Lame.

"Soo," Jacob started, eye brows moving upward with each continued second of silence.

"It is none of your business what I do in my free time," Ren scooped up the Baking Soda into her arms and turned to go back to her bedroom, "Good night."

"Cranky," warm hands took the Baking Soda out of the girl's thin arms, "Someone hasn't had enough sleep." Moving back away from the stairs, Jacob walked further into the kitchen, intent on getting his midnight snack.

"Hey, give that back," Ren snapped in a hushed voice, turned to glare daggers at the large man, "and I have slept in the last seventy-two hours!"

"No sleep makes Nessie a dull girl," a mocking laugh floated, Jacob's face hidden behind an open refrigerator.

"Pomegranate gelato in the freezer," draws slid open without protest as Renesmee pulled out two spoons and two glass bowls; if you can't beat them join them.

Soon, Renesmee was sitting lightly on the counter, legs tucked underneath her, while Jacob leaned casually next to her. One bowl overflowing with ice cream occupying their hands. The jug of bleach abandoned on the floor.

"So really, what happened to your clothes…and face?" ice like a never-ending road finally broke, interrupting a silence Renesmee had actually been enjoying.

"Homework," a white lie. But Renesmee had a feeling her friend wouldn't react well to hearing about the letters. Everyone tiptoed around the subject. While most her family knew about the scarf, the slippers, even the letters, the shifters did not. He hadn't reacted will with human boys from her school talking to her, she doubted a romantic vampire sending long letters and gaining her every thought would be seen as a much bigger threat than hormonal boys.

Jacob only grunted in acknowledgment, allowing another silence to file in.

"If I ever get fat, it's your fault," this time it was Ren who broke the ice. Bronze bundled curls bobbed on top her head as she shook her head in disgust at all the sugar she'd just digested. That of course didn't stop her from taking another bite of the creamy goodness that was pomegranate gelato.

"Carlisle says that's practically impossible," the man chuckled, moving another large bite into his mouth, "You burn more calories than Leah, Seth, and I combined."

"That means zilch," Putting the still half-full bowl down, she settled for resting her chin in her hands, "my metabolic rate is just an estimated accumulation of numbers taken by measuring my oxygen intake and carbon dioxide output and then comparing them to the number we got through the Harris Benedict Equation. The percentage of error is vast."

"I only understand: _that means zilch,"_ The burly man intoned quietly, turning slightly to stare blankly at the girl.

"The numbers may be wrong," chocolate eyes rolled, an expression of fond annoyance taking over her face.

"Ah, now you speak the language of the never-finished-high school," a smile pulled on his lips, eyes crinkling in amusement.

"What are best friend for?" jumping off the counter lithely, Renesme slid her unfinished bowl to Jacob. She would never finish it. Too much sugar. _Blood tasted much better._

Huge hands shoved it back; face suddenly serious, "you really should finish that, Carlisle and Edward were talking about how scrawny you've been looking. Ninety-nine pounds and being five foot two doesn't really sit well with them. They want you in the hundreds."

"I don't think they've noticed but I'm built rather _small_," accused, angry. Even as her best friends there were lines even he couldn't cross. And he'd just crossed one.

Moving quickly, Renesmee scooped up the Baking Soda, for what seemed the umpteenth time, and started swiftly up the stairs, "night," she called stiffly over her shoulder. Leaving behind a somewhat dense shape-shifter behind to wonder what he had said to set her off.

Once back in the safety of her room, Renesmee stripped her ruined clothes and changed into a large shirt. Going across the hall to the bathroom, she removed a washcloth and small container from under the porcelain sink and began the methodical steps to cleaning her practically ruined desk. It wasn't the first time she'd done something like this before. It most likely wouldn't be her last either.


	5. Caught

_Caught_

_How would you feel if you had been told  
that your heart had been sold long before you had the  
control would it pull you under?  
Found my way to inexistence where __I__ called the shots  
and nobody will manipulate me_

_don__'__t__ worry cuz I'm where I wanna be_

_Revenge- Cady Groves_

Age was a strange word for Renesmee. While she looked like she was seventeen, she was really six and acted like someone a hundred years her senior. But still gawky. Clumsy, like all teenagers were. There was no denying Renesmee was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Nothing made sense; her teenage-like hormones jumbled her system while her insanely advanced brain stayed confused and left behind. The only consistent thing that ever seemed to hold true was she lead with her heart.

_Coriander seeds and lotus flowers. _ Her heart nearly stopped with the smell.

The scarf had long since lost its scent. Now it reeked of her. Nectarines and cinnamon, Jacob had told her when she asked. She wore it most days. Seeking comfort in it when she was embarrassed, hiding in it when she became shy. Soon it became the joke of the household.

"_Oh, Ren, you aren't wearing you scarf today, are you okay?", "I heard Egypt is the perfect romantic rendezvous location, thinking of eloping?", "Why, Ren, did you know Egyptians are known for being good…lovers?", "scarves in this weather, trying to hide hickies from a certain pharaoh?", "Got any letters today?"_ Emmett was the main perpetrator. Someone had finally filled him in on whose scarf it really was. _Six years and he'd finally been told_. At least they'd waited that long. She still wanted to sever body parts from whom ever told him, she could barely contain the blush that tinted her cheeks _every time._

Jacob never said anything, instead opting to give the scarf angry envious glares on most days. Having finally connected the dots with Emmett's constant teasing. Jealously practically burning the blue scarf, only because fate seemed to shine down on her had the scarf not been destroyed yet. Despised it. loathed it. His anger stemming from Renesmee's deep attachment for a scarf that a _male _vampire gave her. Which coincidently led them to the conversation she was currently having in the passenger seat of his car.

"It's just a scarf," Renesmee lied, blushing darkly at the words coming out of her pink mouth, "_just a scarf_." Deep down she hopped her blush was seen as anger. Infuriation.

"Just a scarf?_ Just a scarf!" _Jacob nearly snarled, fingers clutching the steering wheel tight enough to leave hands prints, "you wear the damn thing _everywhere_! If it's so unimportant why don't you throw it away? "

Fingering the worn silk, Renesmee loathed the idea of tossing it. It meant something special. She wanted the end to her story. She needed it. Sometimes just the thought of seeing the water dance around and making shapes made her happier on grey days.

Deep breath in, "I can't, Jacob."

Anger rose on his cheeks, jealously written all over his face, "Why not, Nessie, I don't understand. _I'm the one that love s you."_

But that wasn't right. That was wrong. Renesmee had seen the looks and touches Jacob gave Leah. The laughter and comradeship that followed them everywhere. Their effortless flirting. The way they fell into a routine of giving and taking. The jokes. The easiness. Something Renesmee had never had. She wasn't even compatible. Her five feet two inches made her look like a tiny doll next to his six foot nine. Leah was nearly the same height. They fit together like yin and yang. 

"_No_, Jacob," she sighed, "You're confused."

"You can't tell me who I'm in love with."

"You're in _love _with Leah," she started, "Not me."

That stopped him, he paused, mouth open. Closing it quickly, he swallowed, "What?"

"And Leah," Renesmee knew where this conversation was going. She was losing her friend. "She is, _has been_, in love with you."

"What, no," Jacob choked, shifting uncomfortably, "She's my second in command."

Renesmee rolled her eyes, glad to finally be out of the hot seat, "And _you are _in love with her. Ask anyone."

Jake's indie's rock played in the background, seemingly growing louder with the intense silence falling in-between the two.

"That's a lie," finally. Finally he spoke. Voice rough. "I can't be. You're my imprint." Lies.

"_Imprint_?" nothing. Why did he think something was special about those words?

"Don't give me that, you know exactly what it means." He snapped, turning in his torn leather seat to glare at the Halfling.

"I do," a small nod, auburn curls jumping into her cream face and across her melted chocolate eyes, "But it has nothing to do with having feeling s for someone else. Just because you _imprinted _on me doesn't mean that you have to _love_ me like how my parents love each other." A dainty nose wrinkled itself at the thought. Gross.

"It's not supposed to work like that," words spilling fast, "we're supposed to get married. Have kids. Be happy." His eyes turned to stare forlornly out the windshield.

Renesmee huffed in indignation, looking out into the tropical trees and ocean that surrounded them. He'd pulled over so fast, she'd thought they'd roll or crash. Gathering her thoughts, she faced the dark man once more, "Your trying to picture us together aren't you?" she paused for a moment, letting her question sink in, "but you can't. Can you?"

More silence. That was all the head-strong girl needed; unlocking the door, she slipped out into the deluge with ease. Turning slightly, she inspected the man silently, hand resting on the beat-up car. He stared beseechingly at the petite girl, eyes unblinking. Shaken.

"You picture Leah." The door slammed closed in his face. Renesmee had already started walking. Striped pink and grey pullover going translucent, blue shorts growing darker and darker with each drop. Flip flops splashed her creamy thin calves with each step. Not once turning back.

He never came after her. Renesmee was going to have to walk all nine miles home; the first couple miles she enjoyed the rain by the fourth mile she loathed having told Jacob that what she'd known. How she would care for a dry place. Kicking a pebble, down the sidewalk she looked out over the ocean.

Hilo, Hawaii had been her home for two and a half years now. They'd be moving soon. She'd miss it. But each new residency brought adventure and excitement. New pictures to take and show Benjamin, who had only traveled around Egypt all the centuries he'd been alive.

She loathed having to explain why she was soaking wet to her parents and family. But most of all she loathed the accusations Jacob would be pinned with. He was still her friend. Used to be her best friend. But now, she was sure of it, he would not go back to being her best friend. It had been a ruse. He'd been trying to make things how they were supposed to be.

Get married. Have children. Be happy. _As if._

Kicking a rock harder than she was necessary she sent it flying into the dangerous grey waves. Married. Children. Happy. She couldn't stand babies. Her Aunt loved them. But her. no. not now. Not ever. She wasn't made to have children. She had never gotten around to telling Jacob, but physically it was impossible. Carlisle had checked four times. Four miserable tests on her poor reproductive systems. All negative. Already his plan was shot down.

Sighing, feet stopped their rhythmic steps along the sidewalk. Brown eyes turned toward the ocean fully, partly enjoying the pelt of fat raindrops along her face. Fingers suddenly reaching into her pocket, she palmed the tiny cell-phone in her pocket. She could call a family member to pick her up. Jasper and Seth wouldn't ask questions. Esme and Carlisle would show loving concern. Emmett would joke. Everyone else was out of the question. Entirely.

But instead of dialing a number of a family member conviently put into her speed dial, she dialed a number she'd memorized over and over. To call in case of emergency, a part of her snapped tiredly. This wasn't an emergency, but she wanted to talk. Talk to somebody that wasn't family. That wasn't in this bizarre world where people imprinted and thought they loved their imprint but loved their second in command.

That constituted as an emergency, Renesmee told herself as she put the phone up to her ear. Taking shelter under some palm trees.

Second ring. "_Ahlan?" _voice like a saxophone, soulful and smooth.

"Benjamin," whisper soft, barely overheard over the slowly quickening rain.

"Sphinx?" His smooth voice stopped, softened, "What happened?"

Renesmee shook her head suddenly, even though he couldn't see it, saying nothing.

"Come on, Sphinx," He chuckled, "I know you're shaking your head, tell me?"

The words seemed to flow out her mouth before she could hang up the phone and continue her walk home. This was a bad idea. She shouldn't have called. "I have to walk nine miles in the rain because I am an imbecile."

The silence on the other side was tense; she could sense it through the phone. "Why?" one word.

Truth spilled out like water, no coercion, no force. Word diarrhea , "I messed everything up. Jacob found out." she choked, trying to find the words to describe how she appropriately liked the said vampire, "how much…." Another pause, "howmuchilikeyou," words fast. Too fast to comprehend, she continued on hurriedly, "and then I told him that Leah liked him, because it's true, but before it could get awkward I got out of the car and started walking." The silence on the other side was not encouraging . at all.

"_Love_." Blushing, the soaked teen leaned up against a tree to stop from swooning, those words made her heart beat like a hummingbird, and "you are an idiot." A beautiful, musical laugh echoed out through the phone.

"_I know!"_ Renesmee sat in wet sand at the base of the palm tree, hating the weather more and more, "it seemed like a good idea at the time. But by the time it wasn't a good idea my pride got in the way."

Laughter continued, soft and teasing, "so you call me, who lives several continents away, in a _desert."_ Laughter finally subsiding into chuckling, "Sphinx, love, I fail to see any smarts in _any _of your planning."

"Oh, I'm going to finish walking home," Renesmee shook her head, smiling into the phone, "I wanted to talk to somebody."

"You are too independent for your own good," tone going serious, "_be careful alright_, I'll sorely miss your letters if something happens to you."

"Your care for my letter writing is much appreciated," Renesmee let out a small laugh, "though I'm sure you much prefer my pictures."

"Oh, yes, I just love receiving pictures of naked men kicked out of their house or bikinis on people who should not be wearing them," his sarcasm rich, "Just _love _them."

"I knew you would," Renesmee's smile grew larger.

As the rain continued to pour down heavily during their conversation, Renesmee continued to stay in her little refuge under the trees. It was no use walking when it was raining so heavily. Best wait until it stopped. Turned to a small drizzle.

It took two hours. Two hours of talking to her Egyptian vampire. Her crushed coriander seeds and lotus flowers.

"For my trouble you should tell me the end of that story?" Renesmee got up, stepping out into the now drizzle and starting her journey back home. She already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it none-the-less.

"No." came the answer. Instant. "For your trouble I'll write you an apology letter explaining in great detail what I'll do to _that kelb_ for letting you go through with your idiotic plan," He joked.

"Good-bye, Benjamin."

"Good-bye, Sphinx," there was a short pause, "I expect a letter with a further explanation of these exploits. _Stay safe." _

"_I will."_

Four hours to get home. Not once could she break into a vampire sprint. Every-time she felt she was safe, cars would pass by; spraying water across her already wet form. Walking up the drive-way, her dad met her half-way, face angry.

"Renesmee Carlie Cullen," He started, only for Ren to envelope in a hug.

"I know," voice muffled by a silk shirt, "_never do it again. Gotcha. _Won't happen. Never walking nine miles in the rain._ Ever again."_

Bella came out seconds later, followed by _the rest of the family._ Why things could never be done just with one person, she would never know. But suddenly. Suddenly it was very enduring.

"The whole packs leaving, Renesmee, what happened?" Bella's gold eyes huge. Concern bright on her pale face.

So, Renesmee showed them. Sending her gift out to encompass everyone. Her body wasn't the only thing that had endured random spurts of change. So had her gift.

"Hey, Squirt," Emmett jested afterword, "way to sock it to the man." The seemingly proudest one out of the family.

Bella looked hurt and confused. Renesmee's mother always had the most hope for the imprinting, she always wanted to still have Jacob. But it just seemed that was not going to be that way, and she couldn't except that, "Renesmee, baby, I'm sure your just being overly—,"

"No, mom," Ren cut in, looking up at her mom straight in the eyes, "I'm not. And you know it."

Edward stepped in, placing his long piano fingers on her daughters shoulders, "She's telling the truth." He added, pushing his sopping wet daughter into the house, "we can talk more after you change out of those wet clothing."

Moving quickly, Renesmee found comfort in an old worn-out shirt and black yoga pants. Nothing beat lazy clothes. On her way back down-stairs, she was stopped by the argument happening in the living room. _Concerning her._

"Why didn't you tell anyone, Edward," Esme scolded quietly, "she walked nine-miles home!"

"I didn't think much of it," Edward sighed, Ren could just picture him pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance, "Besides, I hadn't thought they would cause any problems."

"Renesmee wasn't feeling any hurt or betrayal," Jasper spoke up to everyone, "if anything her feelings seemed much lighter, like she'd gotten something off her shoulders."

"But it came out of nowhere," Bella cut in, voice distraught, Renesmee edged closer to the stairs trying to catch her next words, "What about the imprint? I thought imprints felt everything. Why? _Why?"_

"Benjamin." Came the answer. From Carlisle of all people.

"But that wouldn't affect an imprint bond," Edward put in.

"Unless that bastard never really had an imprinting bond with Squirt," Emmett rumbled.

A serious of possible explanations began to jump out. Stacking on top each other, the next idea more asinine than the next. Voice raising, their voices began resounding around the room. For vampires they were not being very quiet.

A cough echoed across the room, silencing them all, "Guys shut up, if anyone knows the answer to that one, it'd be Renesmee,"Rosalie cut in, "Right, _Renesmee_."

Renesmee who had been slowly moving to the peeking around the wall, she moved quietly out onto the stairs, "hi." She waved. All eyes turned to her.

"well?" someone, possibly Alice, demanded.

Renesmee shrugged, fingers clenching the railing suddenly; cheeks warming at all the attention, "I never felt anything. We never really clicked all the way."

_Problem solved._


	6. Party Hardy

_Party Hardy = Busted_

_Work hard, play hard_

_Work hard, play hard_

_We work hard, play hard_

_Keep partyin' like it's your job  
David Guetta- Play Hard_

_She_ found myself stuck in the middle of the wild dance floor, the upbeat, crazy music pounding in hurting ears._ Where was she?!_ The blue and red lights flashed overhead, blinding Renesmee as they flashed into her wandering brown eyes. It was nearly impossible to see more than two feet in front of herself, nearly impossible to see through the millions of withering bodies surrounding her like an endless shifting sea. Bodies pushed against each other shoving, a still-shocked, Renesmee into others, who yelling crude obscenities, thankfully, to quiet to be heard above the horribly picked, ear bleeding music. Squinting, the small dainty girl continued the fruitless search for my 'older' and 'more mature' best friend who had dragged her, unwillingly, to this vibrating, wild, piece of junk in the first place. Even after drinking several illegal beers, she still had a sour mood.

"_You'll have fun, I swear,"_ Taylor had promised, throwing various bright and flirty colored clothing at the angry Halfling's curly head. So far they had been here over two hours and Renesmee Carlie Cullem was _not _having any fun. She could be at the library reading, or better yet, at home doing that four page essay that was _supposed _to be due tomorrow morning. But _noooo, _she was here, at this frightfully dingy house party, breaking curfew. Standing on tiptoes, Renesmee tried once more to see past the bobbing heads and bodies looking for her unreliable friend. Her new, _replacement_, unreliable best friend.

Of course knowing her, Renesmee knew her friend probably left, having forgotten all about her self-proclaimed '_twin' _sister. Closing tired eyes, the pale girl tried to calm fleeting nerves. Taylor Woodstock was her best _human_ friend, she wouldn't leave me; she couldn't. _Impossible._

_Human forget important things…and people, _her mind bitterly echoed completely unafraid to bluntly hand out the truth. Thanks subconscious.

Pushing against the gyrating bodies, Renesmee focused on leaving the dance floor and toward a far off corner. A corner with few people and even fewer flashing lights, the perfect hideout until Taylor could be located and then they could get the heck out of this grossly unsanitary place. If only she had made it there.

Only several steps away, screams echoed around the room, "_cops!"_ and then everything became a rush as ugly as rainbow throw up. Bodies moving swiftly. Through windows, out doors. Renesmee didn't know where to go. Which way to run. Taylor drove. They parked out front. _Crap_. But if she got caught. If she got caught she'd be grounded for months. Years. Millennias.

Pushed and prodded, the crowd pushed her out into the lawn. Out into the open, where siren lights played blue and red across her skin. Maybe she could hide. Maybe. Maybe. But _where._ Looking around, she finally spied the green streaked blond. Her _friend._

"Taylor," She yelled over the commotion, grabbing her friend attention quickly. Her only response back was a wave to come quickly. So, what did she do? She went. Didn't run into the woods where it was safer. No, she went to her friend. Not smart.

Combat boots hit the ground swiftly as Renesmee pushed through the crowd to Taylor and three others. Before she even got all the way there, Taylor grabbed her arm and shoved her into the barn next to the woods. The two other males and female ducked in, putting fingers to their lips. God, she was in so much trouble.

Silence slowly choked the lives out of the teens. Three out of five were hopelessly drunk. One of them being Taylor. The other was Kylon the kid's whose house this little shindig was hosted at, and the other female Alissa, only the bane of Taylor's existence. Barely able to keep their mouths shut, more than once they were barely caught when a police officer shined the lights through the cracks. Oh, the joys of being locked in a dark barn. For Renesmee, and the other none smashed kid Ian, this was going to be a long night.

Air clogged in throats, everyone forgot to breath as the cops zeroed in on their hiding spots. Words becoming louder as the door opened. Five pairs of eyes shined back when the flashlight made its way across the barn. _Busted. _

Ushered like lost lambs back inside, they were made to stand around the giant Hawaiian officer. Who looked less than pleased to see them. He looked even angrier when Taylor puked all over his shiny black shoes. Ren bet he didn't want to be here either.

"Go watch her in the bathroom," the officer ordered her, being that Renesmee looked the most sober out of all of them.

So, there she stood in a messy, red paper cup covered bathroom holding her friends hair as she puked up all the alcohol she had consumed.

"I'm soo sorry," Taylor slurred, looking up from the toilet bowl with a queasy expression. Renesmee merely pushed her head back toward the toilet bowl, waiting as she upheaved once more.

"You know, I've always been jealous of you," Taylor suddenly remarked, resting her head on the toilet seat, "I mean your soooo…sooo beautiful and nice. Like everyone wants to be you."

Renesmee wrinkled her nose at the smell coming from her, Taylor and especially the inside of the toilet, "you don't know what you're saying Taylor. You're drunk."

Taylor only laughed, stopping seconds before she puked once more. "I'm serious Ren, I mean at first I started all those rumors about you being a slut and stuff but I never meant them."

What a crappy day it was becoming for Renesmee. What. .Day.

"That was you?" voice hard, angry.

"Yeah, but now, now I totally don't mean it." garbled and so incoherent Renesemee had to strain her ears to hear. Why? Why, was her day like this?

Before Ren could even come up with an answer for the plastered blonde, the police officer was at the door, telling them to get their sorry butts out into the living room. Following quietly, Renesmee hated what kind of punishment was waiting her at home. Idiot. Such and idiot move. God, so dead.

Gathered back into the living room, they found Ian and Kylon picking up the room. Alissa was gone. Pulling down her short mini-skirt, Renesmee felt self-conscious; the cop was staring crossly at the two of them. His little salt-and-pepper moustache practically quivering with irritation, Renesmee neatly kept her laughter down. Taylor on the other hand…

"Your moustache is dancing, Mister cop," she laughed drunkenly, nearly falling over onto her butt. Grabbing a shoulder, Ren kept her _friend _stable. Growing more and more peeved at herself at the situation she was in. and she had thought these situations only happened on television. How wrong was she?

Luckily, the Cop ignored Taylor, "You're lucky tonight," He started, handing a cell phone to Ren, "We have another emergency to attend to. So call a guardian to come and get you."

Renesmee shook her head quietly and dialed Carlisle's number, the only one that looked old enough to pick her up. One ring.

"Hello?" he sounded so endearing and happy, confused at what time someone would be calling him, but happy. Oh, how she was going to crush his happiness.

"Carlisle, I need you to come and retrieve me," Renesmee started, furthering her explanation before he could ask why she wasn't at the house, "I went to a party I wasn't supposed to and the police caught me." Keep it even. No emotion. Like talking about the weather.

"You did what?" he had to be blinking. Several voices came from around the phone. Emmett's the loudest. _Ooh, she's a dead little Halfling. Way to be a rebel, Squirt. _The loud sound of someone hitting Emmett followed shortly after.

"I was at a house party that was serving illegal alcohol to minors and got caught by the police," small pause, "Can you please pick me up?"

A sigh echoed on the other side, "Where?"

Relaying the address, Renesmee hung up and handed the phone to Taylor. From there she waited patiently on a couch for Carlisle to arrive. To say the least the car ride back was traumatizing. If Ren ever had a thought about her grandfather having a forgiving heart, at this moment he did not. Tonight, he was more vampire than forgiving angel.

He did not stop once he got started about alcohol, drugs, and rape. Any who tried to interrupt was given a glare that could not be outdone. Every time Renesmee opened her mouth, a near shiver of fear shot down her back at the sheer anger and disappointment in his eyes and voice.

By the time they pulled into the drive way, Ren knew more information about drinking than she ever thought she'd know.

Date rape happens all the time.

Alcohol kills livers and usually put on blood dialysis.

Drugs kill the brain.

Drinking + driving = possibly death.

To say the least, she never planned on going to a house party ever again. Lesson learned.

Her parent met her at the door, harsh reprimandings and furious words. Grounded for seven months. No more human friends. After she graduated no more dealing with humans for a long while. No more phone privileges. No more internet. No more television. Games. House lock-down. Hunting with parental supervision.

.ever.

But she had Benjamin's letters. They didn't dare take those away. In ways, him talking to her settled her down. She could be so much more rebellious. Even more hot-headed. Hopefully. Just hopefully, not taking away the Egyptian vampire's letters they could keep her from doing something dangerous. Drastic.

Taking a 'walk of shame' to her bedroom, Renesmee tore the scarf from her neck. And threw it on the ground. She was angry at herself. At her family. At Taylor. At the police. But mostly. Mostly herself. Stupid plans. Idiotic ideas. Why couldn't she stop thinking? Stop before she was ahead.

Curling legs to her chin, she laid nestled safe in her bed, moonlight like a curse in bedroom. She wanted darkness. She wanted shame. _She wanted change_._ Tired of lonely. _All her Human friends lies. Her once best friend back in La Push with his girlfriend Leah. Happy, now pregnant, Leah. Seth had tried to leave it out when she'd called to just say hi, but it was his sister. He had the right to be excited.

Allthis rebellion and trouble stuck with her. Jacob's leaving had hit harder than she had thought. She had no _loving _feelings for him. But her hea_rt _still broke at losing him as a best friend. One of the only people to understand her somewhat.

Someone far, far away understood her. But he was continents away. Only able to communicate by letters and sometimes long, long cellphone conversations.

Sitting up abruptly, Renesmee had an idea. A grand idea. An idea that wasn't idiot at all.

_She wanted her forever. She wanted her ending. _And by golly she was going to get them.


	7. flight

_Flight _

_But the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view_

_And we'll live a long life_

_Ghosts that we knew- mumford and sons_

Heat ebbs and flowed, swirling sand across my raw cheek. Bright yellow peeked over maze-like houses, stacked together with no thoughts towards space. People elbowed by, tunics and hats; sunglasses and veils. Smells cascaded like a waterfall of foul and sweet, full of sweat and work; fresh produce and extravagantly floral flowers. The city was a carnival of gold and brown, of modern and ancient, a place where genies could survive. A place of magic and pharaohs thriving just under the sand and grim.

Clutching the map close, I turned down another crowded alley. So many people. So much sand. Horns spilled through the air, indistinct shouts of anger bright in the afternoon. It was a cacophony of life jumbling together into a giant clash. Wonderful, yet horrible. Just as Benjamin had said.

According to the map, she was lost. In truth, the map was nothing but doodles on a sheet of expensive paper. Nothing made sense. Nearly no one spoke English. She was screwed.

Every time she found herself asking for directions, broken English that wasn't even the right English or confused faces met her. Sometimes even the tourists looked at her like she was speaking an alien language.

Don't even get her started on baksheesh. That was going to drain her dry. Her expenses were somewhat limited to the thousand she had taken from the ATM in America at several normal, boring, gas stations. That is not including the cash she had to take out for her ticket. Thank her lucky stars, her family was so wealthy they could possibly feed starving in children for their whole lives and still be good. If she pulled anymore out, they'd know she was in Egypt. Chasing after her forever. Her ending.

Circles. Circles and circles. She'd given up long ago. Instead opting to follow tourists around like a lost baby bird.

That's how she found herself as Luxor. Sweaty and hot. Disgusting. But the ruins her beautiful and haunting. The fact quickly diminished by all the people. Faintly she wondered what they looked like at night.

And that is how she ended up at the Luxor ruins, at night.

Hopping the fence seemed like nothing to her, curiosity burning brighter than the meanest police force. The ruins sprawl out before her. Pillars of stone piled high, eroded by years of wind and sand. A carnival of gold and brown, the smell of history biting and unforgettable. Benjamin could wait another day. He still didn't know she was here yet.

Leaning up against the nearest pillar, Renesmee tugged the thick jacket tighter against her slight body. The faux animal fur-lined collar itchy across her small nose, each breathe a tickle across the pink nostrils. Luxor was breathtaking at night, much more so under the moons many lanterns. _She'd been right_. Brown eyes roamed hungrily over the ruins, taking in each twisting shadow and haunted passage. But then she stopped, squinting she saw something, not right. A blob. A charcoal smudge where stars should be. A figure. Sitting leisurely high on top of an archway, legs hanging lazily off. No, _it couldn't be_.

It moved abruptly, fingers stretching up over his head; a dark blotch in a world lightened by tiny everlasting fireflies in the sky. Hair stood up on her neck, Goosebumps rushing across frozen skin. So cold in a place that once was so hot. She took an unsteady step near the figure, fear spiking in a hummingbird heart; the need to run pulling at her. But Renesmee couldn't. _She didn't want to._ Something told her it was him. Pulled her closer. Closer. Closer still. But, what. What if she was _wrong_?

Heart throbbing, I skittered closer several more inches. Eyes staring intently at the immobile figure sitting, back to me. No jacket. Pants and a short-sleeved shirt. Wasn't he cold? Sitting high above, bare to nature's elements, intriguing. And it clicked. _It was him._

Ground coriander seeds and lotus flowers just a hint on the wind.

And she did the first thing she could think of. She took off her ruby-red slipper. And threw it. _At his head_. It made impact with a soft thud, landing unaffected next to him.

Renesmee watched, with amusement, him turn slowly to peer at the shoe. Picking it up, he first looked up at the sky confused. When he found nothing in great bejeweled expanse high above, he searched the ground below him.

Ren gave a shy wave when he caught him staring awestruck at her. A blush already crimsoning her cheeks. In seconds he was there, cold flesh arms circling her in a warming embrace. Head nuzzled in hair, he looked like he was not under any circumstances going to let go.

But Renesmee's shoeless foot was starting to freeze.

"Benjamin," She got not answer. Again, "Benjamin."

"What?" answer dazed, content. Happy.

"I need my shoe back."

Looking at her softly, tantalizing lips opened sensually, "Do you know where the Eagle dropped the shoe?" he whispered.

"No, Where?"

"Right into a pharaoh's lap." Benjamin leaned down slowly, lifting her barefoot gently, "He took it as an omen, from the God Ra, and went in search for this woman with the rose-red slipper."

Slowly, slowly, he cupped the shoe around her toes and began to pull it on, "And when he found Rhodopis, he married her right there on the spot." Fingers caressing her ankle, eyes stared up at the pale girl. Chocolate met red.

Space seemed to stop. Energy crackling around them like a lightning storm.

"Did she love the Pharaoh?" she found herself asking, eyes moving trailing down to the vampires full lips. How she urged to suddenly kiss them.

"Dearly," he whispered, there head moving closer slowly.

"You told me the story without your scarf," the girl tugged on her collar, uncovering the scarf she wore so often, the scarf starting to show signs of wear and tear. The silk looked loved and abused, the fabric dull, holes threading its way through the fragile material.

"_Keep it_, I got something better in return," no attention was even paid to the scarf. His eyes never left her face. Too busy memorizing her mouth, her nose, her _eyes. _Too busy moving closer. And closer.

"And what would that be?" whisper a small sound in the night, lips so nearby. Centimeters.

Shouts loud and angry fill the silence, words in Benjamin's musical language like an angry storm descending upon them.

"That is our cue to go," Benjamin laughed, soft tenor saxophone personified.

They fled the scene like vampires, leaving nothing. Not even footprints. Only a gust of wind behind them.

A wind tinted with Coriander seeds and lotus blossoms. Cinnamon and nectarines.


	8. Next to me

_Next to me_

_Never in my life have __I__ met someone like him  
I'm blown away by his love for me  
if you ever wonder where it is you'll find him  
you will find him, you will find him next to me  
__Next to me- Emeli Sande_

Nestled in the huge plants growing next to the Nile, Renesmee hid quietly, hands clapped over her hands to stop the errant giggles threatening to come forward. _He'd never find her here. _Moving her head slowly, she searched her surroundings for the tall Egyptian. Nothing. No sign of him. She was safe.

"Found you." Warm. Enticing. Fingers touched her waist, sending Renesmee shooting up and sideways. Tiny white palms fisted in fabric. Tumbling, tumbling, tumbling toward the water. And then they were kissing. Milliseconds before impact. Underwater converged around them, soaking clothes and hair. but refusing to take the burn tingling on their skin. The electricity of their first kiss shooting around them dangerously. Electrifying. Just as Renesmee had often dreamed of.

The water pulled them back to the surface, Benjamin's fingers moving behind her back manipulating, pulling them into their own little secluded alcove. Pulling her onto the gold steps of his house, wind whipped around them, a tornado drying their clothes in seconds.

Kissing Renesmee again, Benjamin found himself laughing, "All those letters," he never finished his thought as Renesmee covered his soft lips with hers. All thoughts were destroyed. Burned. Obliterated. But no one cared. Too caught up in the taste of love.


	9. one last wish

_One last wish _

_Find light in the beautiful sea_

_I choose to be happy_

_You and I, you and I_

_We're like diamonds in the sky_

_Diamonds- Rihanna _

Days turned to months. Benjamin spent most his time dragging Renesmee through every wondering landmark he could find before taking her back home to sleep at night. After one embarrassing phone call between Benjamin and Edward, Renesmee was clear to stay here for as long as everyone saw fit. _Renesmee wanted forever._ But Benjamin, Edward, Amun, and the rest if the Cullen's concluded that she would stay for two years _at most_. Enough time to '_find herself'_ away from her family. She would be missed if gone forever. Even if the idea was alluring.

Lip to lip. Arms wrapped tight. Barely space to breath. That's how Renesmee spent her time with Benjamin, _finding herself_.

Currently they sat in Benjamin's boat. Amun and Kebi having taken the house to do _stuff._ Stuff Renesmee did not want to hear or accidently _see_. Just the thought of walking in on anything made a shiver run down her back. _Gross_.

Skies a cloth of black dripping with silver jewels were reflected across the Nile. Fingers curled safely in her lap, Renesmee tugged on the worn scarf around her neck.

"Benjamin," voice innocent, "what where you doing at Luxor that night?"

Eyes flashed for a second, a dazzling smile on his lips , "cinnamon and nectarines."

She looked at him in confusion, "What's that have to do with anything."

Smile impossibly bigger, "Edward called and said you'd disappeared, figured you'd come here. I caught your scent and followed it. Thought you might come back."

No words needed to be spoken, not that Renesmee could even get any out, Benjamin was too busy putting a lotus blood into her hands and telling her to make a wish before setting it into the water. Closing brown eyes, the pale girl with the now ratty scarf made a wish and placed the lotus into the water. Like a little ship if caught the current and was swept away, leaving its sweet aroma's plaguing the air.

"It's an old tradition," Benjamin explained, watching the lotus float away, "people used to make wood and metal lotuses to try and float them down the river. If they float, you get a wish. But I much prefer the flower to carving one of wood."

Renesmee's eyes watched the bloom merge into the night, losing its way away from the candle-like stars. Eaten, instead, by shadows and darkness. Her only response to him was a small nod of acknowledgment.

"What'd you wish for," eyes glowing with amusement.

"It's silly." Scarlet tracing its way across her cheekbones and down her neck.

"Silly means nothing. Come on." still wet fingers came to rest on her warm cheeks.

"A forever with you," barely there. The sound a soft tinkling of bells.

"I quite like that idea," cold kiss fleeting, the answer bright, "_one day_."


End file.
